FORESHADOWS - Royal Blood, Smoke and Mirrors
by Jough
Summary: picking up where i left off last time, more or less introducing charecters and plot now....


HALO SQUADRON - EPISODE I  
FORESHADOWS - by Jough Donakowski  
  
  
Chapter One - Royal Blood, Smoke and Mirrors  
  
"Sir," started Commander Brady, half hoping that he was hidden underneath his hat  
completely. It was his turn to speak to Captain Jender, and he dreaded every second of it.  
After being stationed on several Destroyers and countless smaller ships and stations,  
Brady had learned that there was no happy medium among ships Captains. They were  
either pushovers, acquing their position through their families name and wealth, or they  
were legitimate products of the Imperial academy, ruthless and sadistic in every possible  
way. Brady was more of the first option, Jender was more of the second.  
Brady was a rather unsmall man, but he wasn't all that well built. His head was oval  
shaped with sand paper colored hair and unusually flesh colored lips that quivered just a  
little as he spoke. He usually kept his hands behind his back while addressing a superior,  
but he never knew quite what to do around Captain Jender, so they hung at his belt and  
he fidgeted with them uneasily.  
Captain Jender was a vexing, enigma of a man. Though his skin was the palest of  
pinks of the pallet, he was always cloaked in a darkness that made he seem to have a  
complexion ten-fold darker. A blue imperial cap always adorned his head, except for  
when he would take it off to wipe his brow. Underneath, he was bald, and regular bets  
were made on wheter or not it was due to old age or sumply fashion.   
No one had ever seen him out of uniform, and it was assumed he worked, slept, and  
made love while wearing it. The gold and silver buttons down the front of his jacket were  
almost in too perfect a line, and despite the obvious wear of time, the navy blue garb  
radiated authority. It was intimidating, really. He was intimidating. And he didn't seem to  
have heard the word Brady started. Or perhaps he merely didn't care.  
"Sir..." he repeated, trying to add a little authenticity to his voice while tuggin on his  
own shirt a bit, trying to keep it's crease. The Captain still stood at his post high above the  
helm of the Regality, watching the skies like a raven would the desert. Brady wanted to  
say more, but he had learned from experience, third time was not always the charm. So  
he stood there, trying not to tap his foot or give in to any of the numerous mannerisms he  
had picked up in deep space. When you're miles away from anything but a few hundred  
other men you tend to pick up on small ways of fidgiting to stave off boredom and  
maintain your sanity.   
The processed air took a sudden inertia to it, and Brady snapped to even more  
attention. Jender was soon to speak. He did not, however, say what Brady wanted to hear.  
But then again, there was really very little he could say to make the Commander's day.  
"Do you think they're right?" he asked. Well at this Brady adopted a sort of stunned  
silence. He opened his mouth to formulate a verbal opinion, but closed it to reconsider.  
Finally, he decided to say the only thing he deemed safe.  
"Who are right... sir?" he asked. He kicked himself immediatly after. A show of  
ignorance infront of the Captain. A definate dermerit. No brownie for him points today.  
The Captain just sighed and relaxed his neck nuscles, allowing his neck to go limp and  
his head to swing like it hung from a fulcrum, a pendalem in motion. He lead with his  
shoulder and walked passed the officer, not bothering to make eye contact. Not even  
trying. A split decision was needed. Brady made it. He followed his Captain. That was  
the right decision.  
The two walked through the upper decks of the Regality in silence, the smaller  
following the larger. Occaisionally they were graced by an officer or a trooper, but the  
walk was rather uneventful, and to Brady, rather creepy. Why, oh gods, had he picked the  
short straw.  
No time to question it. The Captain had lead him to a door deep within the ship's  
super-structure. He hadn't even been watching where he was going, but Brady managed  
to piece together the fact that this was not part of the ship that he had ever frequented. He  
snuck a peak at several of the doors. The inscriptions read something like "Secure  
Communique Centre", "Extreme Debriefing Room" and "Seat of the Emperor". Now,  
Brady had heard of rumors that there was a throne to the Emperor on each destroyer, but  
he never gave it a second guess. He always had assumed that if that were true, then the  
chamber would have to be deep within the ship, near the Captains quarters, where  
under-officers were forbidden to go unless invited. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks  
and he nearly ran into a wall. He quick corrected himself and found that Captain Jender  
had halted his trek, standing outside a large metal blast door with a platinum inscription  
holoed over it. "Captain's Quarters". The rumors were true.  
The door slid open, and the Captain walked inside. Brady stood idly for a second, but  
the words 'Commander?' spoken in the way that only Jender could formulate them  
encourage him to put one foot in the door, then the other, and soon he felt a rush of air as  
the door slid closed behind him. He knew it was coming, and he tried not to flinch, but  
failure seemed the only option.  
Some how Captain Jender had managed to make his way to a small crystaline table in  
the middle of the room and pour the two of them a glass of something brown and piping  
hot into small, antiqued porecelan glasses. At a second glance there were, in fact, three  
glasses, and a third chair waiting at the table.  
"Come, Commander." Jender spoke. And Brady obeyed, sitting slowly and biting his  
thin lip red. The Captain took a sip of his beverage, and so Brady did the same,  
concentrating on liking it, no matter what the taste sensation was. Trying wasn't hard,  
actually, the liquid was sweet and cool, despite the obvious steam rising from his mug.  
Brady looked up with a pleased grin that Jender interperated as a question.  
"Marm from Ralitar." he answered. Brady noted that. He'd have to order a barrel or  
two at the next officer's dinner. Then he looked to the empty seat off to his right. Jender  
answered that too, still not looking up from his glass, though not looking intent on taking  
another swig. "She'll be here in a moment, Commander." he said. Frusteration dominated  
the sentence, so Brady merely waited as he sipped his Marm. Still though, the question of  
who 'she' was danced around his mind like a buxom blonde stripper. The accepted female  
position in the Empire was that of home maker. Afterall, a society was only as good as  
it's youth, and if the youth had no maternal influence at home, the empire was doomed.  
This meeting would proove to be interesting.   
Brady took an opporitunity to examine the room. Though it branced off from a small  
halway, it was amazing in size. It was a circular room, with a large, raised square dais  
where they were sitting in the center of it. Yellows, and creams and other white shades  
made up the walls, and Brady picked off several old, vintage, Pre-Empire posters  
screaming Old Republic propoganda at him. The Commander didn't know if those  
momentos were vintage, replicas or holos, but he assumed vintage. Captain Jender didn't  
really seem to be the kind to go for knock-ofs.  
The rooms light sources were panels along the cieling, where it met the walls, spaced  
evenly among the small rift and glowing downwards, leaving small shadows along the  
upper portions. A perfect place for a secuirty camera, thought Brady, before assuming the  
Captain had probibly thought of it before him.  
Furniture was arranged in a somewhat dodda-istic rabble, though all of it flowing and  
functional. Fen-shuie. Pieces of art in their own rights, and each looked surprisingly  
comfortable, despite the lack of any fabrics. The room gave off the feeling that it  
belonged to a prince who didn't want to be a prince, and gave more insight to the Captain  
then Brady really wanted.  
For the next several moments, the Commander found himself once again fighting the  
urge to fidget, or cross his legs, or any doing any social taboos what so ever. In the big  
picture though, it didn't entirely matter. Jender was engrossed in the contents of his  
off-white mug and seemed to have the outside world on stand-by. This moment passed,  
however, upon the opening of the heavy steel blast door at the far end of the room.   
Jender put his mug down and slowly rose to his feet. Brady did too, though not nearly  
with as much style and panache. Jender started towards the door, but Brady decided it  
best not to intervine. From the direction of the door, he could make out two large men in  
crimson robes and deep red plastoid armor, wielding large, what appeared to be sickles.  
He immediatly drew a gasp, and then imediatly regretted doing so. Imperial guard.  
Commander Brady didn't quite know what to make of it. Never before had the  
Crimson Guard been deployed anywhere near him, and he hadn't the foggiest how to  
react. The guard left moments later though, and so the immediate issue was resolved.  
Still though, their presence hadn't gone un-noticed by Brady, and undoubtedly there  
would be rumors flying in the mess hall the following shift.  
There was a quick verbal exchange as the Crimson Guard were dismissed from the  
room, and then there was a sound that Brady had enver before heard, and never thought  
he would. Jender and the female exchanged a piece of laughter, and Brady saw him take  
her hand and plant a courtiers kiss on it. The Commander found the whole thing  
remarkable.   
Aformentioned female officer looked please, though not entirely elated. She pulled  
her pale white hand from his lips and smiled, chuckled a little and threw her arms around  
his neck in an embrace. The Captain returned the hug, and Brady merely watched. This  
was a side of Jender he had never seen. Maybe there was a civil side to him after all.  
As soon as they had finished all their pleasentries, Jender lead the woman over to the  
table and pulled her chair back for her curtiously. This was when Brady got his first good  
look at the officer. She was adorned not in the blue of the Imperial navy, but in a black  
jacket with black slacks and a tight red armband, suggesting Imperial Command. If he  
had examined her uniform further he'd have discovered she belonged to Fleet  
Ineteligence, and carried a rather high rank. Had he noticed this though, he would have  
just guessed she slept her way to the top, and judging by the curves of her body and the  
beauty of her face, that wasn't that wild of a guess. She had been offered an opportunity  
to do just that, in fact, but never did it happen. Her position was legit.  
Soon, the three were all seated, and Captain Jender choose to make the opening  
remarks, much to Brady's relief.  
"Commander Brady," he started, "I'd like you to meet an old acquaintance of mine."  
How he said that sentence implied that there was more to this 'acquantanceship' then he  
was letting on, but then again assumptions about Captain Jender had a way of turning out  
wrong. Brady nodded, stood up slightly, leaned over the table and extended his hand,  
which she shook gracefully. He smiled some and looked her over, before being taken  
prisoner by her ice blue eyes. She smiled back. An evil smile, but evil in a good, good  
way. Brady broke the handshake before it drug on for too long and sat back down.  
"Commander Thomas Brady." he said. His voice was almost too chipper, but the  
women across from him only continued to smiley warmly from under the coldness of her  
eyes.  
"Ysane Isard." she said, the warmth of her face overshadowing to coldness of her  
personae. This would prove to be an interesting evening. Certainly something the boys  
would want to hear about over dinner the next day.  
  
***  
  
"So did you get a good look at him?" asked Dirge, slamming his metal tray down on  
the mess hall table. As usual, the Regality's mess was abustle with all sorts of personale  
retiring from shifts, or preparing to start their own, or simply taking a break, authorized  
or not.  
Kaya looked up from whatever the swill in her mug was and curled her lip into a smile.  
Always the first question Dirge asked after a scramble. She flicked a few strands of her  
autumn red hair over her sholder and kind of clentched her body in, making herself a  
little smaller in her seat.  
"Not yet." she said, a little more femininly then she intended on.  
Kaya and Dirge were members of the Fallen Lords, one of the more vetren TIE/ln  
cliques aboard the Regality, though that wasn't saying much. Dirge had already  
completed a TOD, but he passed down a tour as an officer in favor of joining the Lords as  
X/O. Deep down, Dirge was just a wise moron who loved seeing things explode. He was  
good at what he did though, and there was no possible way not to love him. He just had  
that personable charm about him that him him the surrogate brother of anyone who could  
cut through his immaturity facet.  
Dirge slumped down next to her and started spooning food into his mouth as he  
rambled.  
"He was real young..." he started, throwing manners to the wind. Kaya shrugged and  
sipped from her mugg.  
"Most rebels are..." she offered. Dirge gave her a look and she stuck her tounge out at  
him.  
"You know what I mean... real pretty boy too. Probibly just your type." he jested. Kaya  
grabbed a piece of... something.. and threw it at Dirge playfully. He countered with a  
piece of food of his own and the two went at it like squabbling children for a moment  
until they were broken up by the arrival of Llly.  
Lly was tall and slender with near moss colored hair, which he still maintained was  
natural, but everyone had their doubts. Though the correct pronunciation of his name was  
'Uhl', he had become known simply as Eli, and being the shy, seldom outspoken man he  
was, he offered no resitance.  
"See im yet?" Lly inquired, watching the two fancifully. Dirge smiled.   
"I caught a glimpse, yeah... Kaya here's still a reb-virgin though."  
"Oh please..." interjected Cxyn, sauntering in from the mess line. "Kaya's not any kind  
of virgin..." Cxyn and Kaya were the only two female Lords, but really two females in  
one squadron was a bit of a rarity. A piece of food found it's way into his face amidst a  
sea of laughter, and Kaya sat indignantly in her chair, arms folded across her chest, lips  
all pouty and whiney. Lly looked up from his dish and spoke.  
"Think we've gotta drag her down there some time today?"   
"I know so," Dirge started. "Sith, she's the one who took him down." At that, Kaya  
eeed and brought her legs up on top of the bench, balling herself up protectivl from their  
evil, evil compliments. It didn't save her much. She was guilty as charged, she'd have to  
face up to it sooner or later. Even still, she hated when the boys did this to her.  
"Awwwwww, is our little reb-raven being bashful?"  
Dirge's vioce made her chucke a little, but she tried to chuckle into her lap, where no  
one could here. Soon though, she found a pair of cold, manly hands underneath the fringe  
of her loose, black halter top and she squeeled like a baby as they tickled her ribs.  
Instinctivly, Kaya jumped up and slapped at the owner of the hands, who, of course,  
turned out to be Dirge. After a quick huff and another bout of poutiness, she put her feet  
back up on the bench, hugged her mug close to her chest, and reclined on the big and  
burly Dirge, who put an arm around her, but kept right on eating. Kaya snuggled further  
into his baggy flightsuit. For some reason, she felt safe there.  
The meal went on with a few more interuptions from various other Fallen Lords,  
always asking the 'Did you see him' question, and always reacting the same way when  
they heard Kaya's negativity. By the end of the night she was nearly burrowed into Dirge's  
body.  
The Fallen Lords, also known as Blue Squadron of Delta Flight in the 172nd Wing of  
the Imperial Navy, didn't hold the patent to the captive ritual they religiously followed.  
Dirge had picked it up from The Dusk Riders, the squadron he completed his first Tour  
of Duty with, and The Riders had borrowed it from ancient superstition. In an age where  
instant death could be rained down upon a planet from orbit, it was hard to look the  
enemy in the eyes, but to do so was to understand him, and to understand him was to  
defeat him.  
Kaya sighed as Dirge took his arm back to his side from around her and went off to  
find some more food. She took the moment to sit up and push a strand of flaming hair  
from her face before resting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. She drew  
a deep breath and let herself stay there a moment until the whole of the outside world  
passed her by. Suddenly, and much to her own surprise, Kaya found a single tear swelling  
up in her left eye. She almost started to panic, but her emotion caught up to her just then.  
This was her first meal without Chen. The rebels had killed Chen.  
Now, Chen was still a greeny in the Imperial Navy, and hadn't been with The Lords  
for more then a week. But now he would never even get the chance to prove himself  
worthy. Kaya never even had a chance to meet him. Odds were she wouldn't attend his  
ceremoney. In all the bueracracy involved in running a massive ship like the ISS  
Regality, it was quite possible that the name of a lowly TIE jocky just out of the academy  
would even be noticed, and he'd just be blown off without a death ceremony at all. That  
angered part of Kaya. That angered part of hear greatly.   
When Dirge came back, Kaya dried her eyes in his baggy sleeves. He paused for a  
second and looked at her.  
"Something wrong girl?" he asked with a sort of twisted sincerity only he could do.  
She quick wiped her cheeks with his sleeve once again and put her cup down.  
"Yes.." she said. Her voice was hushed and slightly raspy. "Yes there is. Excuse me."  
Quickly, she straightened her breasts in her halter top, stood up and walked out of the  
mess hall, heading in the direction of the detention block. There was some one she  
wanted to pay a visit. 


End file.
